


Chemical Balance

by DemonicSymphony



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, America, Fluff, Greaserlock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mayor!Mycroft, Mechanic!Sherlock, Police Chief!Greg, Scientist!John, and sex, but only sort-of, mystrade, nebulous timeframe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicSymphony/pseuds/DemonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mechanic Sherlock and Scientist John live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Mycroft's the mayor and Greg's the police chief... a little domesticity, a little fluff, and a little sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemical Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hedonisticnightmares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/gifts).



> So, I started out intending to write straight up Greaserlock and I just failed, _spectacularly_ at that... so this turned into this whole nebulous AU of its own. 
> 
> HedonisticNightmares, I hope, even though I flopped on Greaserlock, that the AU as it stands is enjoyable. Thanks for your patience and your quick answer to the person I sent in to sneakily ask if sex scenes were okay (since the mature rating means so many different things for people!) and since you gave the go ahead... Well, Sherlock kind of got away from me.
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to The Writer's Circle for the beta, ideas, and support.

John smiled as he pulled up to the garage and parked the car. Sherlock’s body from the waist down was visible under the truck he was working on. When John shut the car door Sherlock’s deep voice rang out.

“Told that idiot, Wilkes, that his radiator had a leak. Had to go get it and tow it back today. All the way over in Lancaster. Lancaster!” Sherlock’s lean body slid from under the truck and John’s breath caught. A cigarette hung from Sherlock’s mouth, half burned away and his curls were riotous, grease streaked across one cheek and his white tee mussed. John loved the way dirt caught in Sherlock’s knuckles.

“Gonna stare at me or come kiss me?” The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched up as he stood.

John didn’t waste time crossing the garage floor as Sherlock wiped his hands on a rag. He slipped an arm around Sherlock’s waist as Sherlock wrapped one around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him. It was far slower and sweeter than anyone would suspect Sherlock of being capable of, but John knew all his secrets.

He knew Sherlock could deduce how long it had been since someone had checked their engine, their fluids, their tire pressure, just by looking at and listening to a car. Knew he could tell if John had skipped lunch that day, or if he’d worked late into the night before coming to bed. He had an uncanny way of telling him who might be bringing a car in for work in the next week based on what he’d heard around the neighborhood.

But most of all, John Watson knew how deeply and passionately Sherlock Holmes could love. Behind the leather jacket, behind the grease and the attitude, underneath the cloud of cigarette smoke and foul language, John knew _Sherlock_.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and John looked up at Sherlock who winked at him.

“I got the vegetables like you asked me to. Picked ‘em up in Lancaster from one of the Amish. Oughtta be good and fresh, yeah?”

John grinned. “You big softie. Clean up and I’ll start supper.” He turned to leave and let out a yelp when Sherlock pinched him on the ass. “Sherlock!” 

He laughed all the way up to their apartment over the garage, casting one last glance at his husband over his shoulder before slipping in their front door.

\---

John was pulling the pot of steamed vegetables off the stove when Sherlock came in to set the table. He tilted his head up for a kiss and was not disappointed when Sherlock pressed one to the corner of his mouth.

“Lestrade will be bringing some of the precinct’s cars by this week. Time for me to give them all a once over. I imagine we will be invaded by he and my brother for dinner one night. Boring.” Sherlock drawled as John flipped the chicken he was frying in the pan.

“I like seeing Mycroft and Greg.” John answered with a smile.

Sherlock whined. “Joooohn. Mycroft always asks when I’m going to give up ‘this ridiculous notion of being a mechanic’ and come to work for him at the mayor’s office.”

A low chuckle escaped John. “You did go to law school-”

“We never speak of that!” Sherlock interrupted as he set down a glass of water. “Never!”

John grinned as he took the chicken off and laid it on a paper towel to blot some of the grease. “We might have made a breakthrough on that polymer today. We’ll have to wait for some of the labs to come through.”

Sherlock beamed at John. “I told you that you would crack it.”

“It’s not just me working on it Sherlock!” John laughed as he started plating their food.

“No, but you are, by far, the superior mind working for DuPont.” Sherlock drawled as he settled in and hummed happily at the smell of the food. “John, you spoil me. Especially driving all the way from here to Wilmington.”

“And you flatter me. We love Philadelphia. The garage is here... Our _home_ is here, Sherlock.” He paused as Sherlock smiled at him. “Don’t think this gets you out of dinner with Mycroft and Greg.”

Sherlock scowled but John knew he had won when Sherlock’s booted foot nudged his under the table.

The two of them made small talk about the light bill and the new tools Sherlock wanted to order throughout dinner. They stood side by side at the kitchen sink, John washing and Sherlock drying so that their dominant arms didn’t bump, sides brushing. 

They settled in on the small couch, both with a book, content to bask in each other’s company without words. When Sherlock started noticing John turn the pages slower, he set his book aside and crawled up John’s body until he was face to face with him. He shut John’s book after carefully marking the page.

“Would you like to go to bed Doctor Watson?”

John grinned up at Sherlock and looped an arm around Sherlock’s neck. “That depends… Would you like to share a shower first?”

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John, nipping at his lower lip. “By all means, lead the way.” He stood up and pulled John to his feet with no small amount of grace.

Twining their fingers together, John pulled Sherlock to their bathroom and took great delight in peeling him out of his clothing. When he was finished he took a few minutes to admire the skin beneath his hands, the freckle at his hip, the scar on his abdomen where they’d dropped part of a transmission on him one time, the bump over his clavicle where he’d broken it as a small child…

With an indulgent smile, Sherlock watched John look over him as though it were the first time John had ever seen him before he made short work of undressing John in return. He kissed him again before turning on the water. As they waited for it to get warm, Sherlock trailed his hands down John’s sides. 

“I love you.”

John smiled as he tugged Sherlock into the shower with him. “I know.”

The water was cooling by the time they were finished and John shivered as he wrapped the towel around himself to dry off. Sherlock was taking his time, carefully combing through his hair while it was still wet so his curls wouldn’t be a nightmare in the morning. John moved to pull out his pyjamas only to be startled by an arm around his waist.

“Don’t get dressed,” Sherlock near purred as he nuzzled into John’s neck, nipping under his ear.

John’s eyes closed as Sherlock’s hands slid down his chest. “Sherlock…” He moaned as he was pushed gently toward the bed. 

Sherlock smirked as he urged John into bed and followed him, tossing their towels to the floor. John arched into his hands and gasped. As he was kissed near senseless once more, John thanked the Universe all over again for sending him Sherlock Holmes.

\---

Sherlock pulled up to the garage on his motorcycle, a smirk on his face as he pulled off his helmet. “Lestrade…”

“Sherlock! You were supposed to be here a half hour ago!” A silver haired cop leaned against the garage door.

“Sorry, got tied up…” He drawled as he lit a cigarette. “Roll up the door. Let me hear it.”

“You left it unlocked?”

“As if I couldn’t tell exactly who had stolen from me, Lestrade.” Sherlock scoffed as Lestrade lifted the door. “Pull it in for me.” He walked his motorcycle into its spot and tossed his helmet to its peg before shoving his rag in his back pocket.

By the time they were done with the cars, Sherlock had serviced five of them and had his shirt off, leaning his hip against the last one. “So when are you going to ask my brother to marry you?” He popped the top off a Coke for Lestrade and handed it over.

Greg Lestrade sputtered and took a drink of the Coke to give himself a moment to recover. “Jesus, Sherlock. You can’t just ask a guy things like that!”

“Oh please. You two have been a couple longer than John and I have been. It’s been legal everywhere for years…” Sherlock stated as he lit a cigarette.

“Mycroft thinks marriage is-” Greg trailed off.

“An out-dated, idiotic, ritual?” Sherlock supplied.

Greg scrubbed a hand over his face and Sherlock tapped his chin. “Wait, right there.” He dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and disappeared into the apartment. A few minutes later he came back down them the way John always yelled at him about ‘You’ll break your damned neck, Sherlock!’

He held out his hand to Greg and urged him to take what he offered. Greg held out his hand with a sigh only to arch a brow when Sherlock deposited a men’s ring in it. “Was our grandfather’s. John’s finger was too small… We didn’t want to risk having it sized. Propose with it, you idiot.”

Greg stared down at the ring and Sherlock shoved him. “If you fuckin’ cry, I’m banning you from my garage.”

\---

When John returned for the evening, Sherlock was upstairs, the garage closed up for the evening. He could hear the shower running and he stripped out of his clothes, sneaking into the shower with Sherlock. A low chuckle sounded as John went to his knees and took Sherlock into his mouth.

Sherlock moaned as John quickly worked him to hardness, long skilled in everything Sherlock liked. His tongue ran along the underside of Sherlock’s shaft as he wrapped one hand at the base of him, stroking. John smirked around Sherlock as he swore when John rolled his balls in his hands, tugging lightly.

John sucked and bobbed his head in rhythm with the pressure with Sherlock’s hand, listening to the soft moans and guttural grunts. He moved quicker as Sherlock’s movements became erratic, breathing quickening. John pulled off at the last moment, allowing Sherlock’s come paint stripes across his face, drawing a series of filthy words from him.

After a moment Sherlock hauled John to his feet and pinned him to the wall, kissing him roughly, knee between his thigh. He nipped his lower lip, voice a low growl. “I promise, after we rid ourselves of my brother and Lestrade… I’ll take care of you.”

John just grinned and kissed Sherlock again before scrubbing his face and hair clean again. Sherlock pinched his arse as they climbed out of the shower and stood side by side brushing their teeth, preparing for the dinner with Mycroft and Greg.

\---

John was just pulling the roast chicken out of the oven when Greg and Mycroft arrived. Sherlock escorted them inside, accepting the bottle of wine from his brother. 

“Thank you, Mycroft.” John called out, when Sherlock rudely said nothing.

Sherlock scowled at John who only shook his head and smiled fondly. “Sherlock, open the wine and get down the glasses, you menace.”

Mycroft chuckled softly. “I’ve never seen anyone able to handle him quite the way you do, Dr. Watson. Can we talk you into convincing him to returning to law? Or at least coming to work for me as a mayoral aide?”

“Four minutes twenty-three seconds! It’s a new record, John!” Sherlock groaned as he opened the wine to let it breathe.

Greg sighed and shook his head. “Is there anything I can help with John?”

“I’ve about got it, Greg, though if you want to grab the wine glasses, we can sit down and eat.” John answered with a smile.

Soon the four of them were settled with dinner, making pleasant small talk with Sherlock and Mycroft sniping at one another on occasion about their respective chosen careers. Greg and John looking on and rolling their eyes. A touch to an arm here, or a leg there when one brother or the other started heading out of line.

John served small dishes of sherbet for dessert and Mycroft complimented him on his choice of pairing it with the chicken, to which John beamed. Sherlock preened as though his choice in husband were the best in the world. When everyone was finished and enjoying an after-dinner brandy, Greg moved to his feet and paced nervously for a moment.

“Mycroft, I love you.” Greg spoke earnestly as he paused his pacing in front of him. “And I want to tell you this in front of your brother and his husband, our friend John for a very important reason.”

Mycroft looked a bit taken aback, but schooled his face into one of gentle indulgence and nodded. “As you wish, Gregory.”

Greg went to one knee in front of Mycroft and held up the ring Sherlock had given him earlier that day. “I know you’re not the world’s biggest proponent of marriage, but I am tired of living separately, at least publicly. I love you, Mycroft. I have for a very long time. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… and if signing our names to a piece of paper in order to do that peacefully is the way to do that… won’t you take that step with me?”

There was a stunned look on Mycroft’s face and for a moment, John was terrified Mycroft was going to refuse Greg. 

“Where did you get the ring?” Mycroft whispered.

“It was your Grandfather’s.” Greg answered.

“I know whose it was, Gregory-”

“I gave it to him, Mycroft. Honestly.” Sherlock shook his head as he looked across the table. “You’ve shut yourself off for too long. That man… He’s your John. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t let him go.” He reached out and twined his fingers with John’s as Mycroft looked back to Greg.

“Mycroft Holmes, will you marry me?” Greg asked as he looked up at him.

Mycroft held out a trembling hand as he nodded, voice breaking on the ‘Yes’ before he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll marry you, Gregory.”

Greg slid the ring onto Mycroft’s finger and moved, kissing him as he enveloped him in a hug. 

John let out a small cheer and Sherlock smiled. When the kiss went on a few seconds too long, Sherlock gave a small little snort that broke the kiss up fairly quickly and sent everyone back to his own chair. 

A bit of small talk over coffee gave way to goodbyes and getting ready for bed. John leaned against the doorframe as he watched Sherlock brush his teeth. “That was a good thing you did, Sherlock. I’m proud of you.”

Sherlock smiled around his toothbrush but gave his normal, unaffected shrug. “S’cool.” He mumbled. “Didn’t fit you.”

John grinned and slid into bed, slipping out of his pyjamas and pulling the covers up to his chin, waiting, naked, for Sherlock to join him.

A few minutes later Sherlock flipped off the lights and crawled into bed with John. When he reached for him, John grinned at the small growl his nakedness elicited. 

“John Watson-Holmes… is this my reward for giving up Grampa’s ring?” Sherlock asked.

John turned to face him, running a hand down Sherlock’s chest until he was cupping his groin. “Think of it as a reward for the whole day.”

That earned John another growl and Sherlock’s teeth grazing along his neck, drawing soft gasps and whimpers from him. Sherlock knew every sensitive spot on his body and exactly how to play them. The same calloused fingers that could twist a bolt to perfection could trace the lines of John’s body in ways that had him arching and moaning in seconds.

Sherlock withdrew for a moment to shed his clothing before coming back and rolling John to his back. He settled himself between John’s legs as John watched him in the low light. A moan was wrung from John as Sherlock dragged his fingers down John’s chest, stopping to pinch his nipples in tandem, making John cry out in want.

John rolled his hips up, hard against his stomach as he gazed up at Sherlock, letting out a little pleading whimper. “Sherlock, please…”

“Tell me, John… how is it you’re going to reward me tonight? I’ve been _ever_ so good today.” Sherlock purred as he looked over the expanse of skin under him, still tanned from their trip to the beach.

“Anything you want.” John gasped as Sherlock rolled a nipple between his fingers again.

Sherlock chuckled and dragged blunt nails over John’s chest before withdrawing enough to dig in the nightstand. “Turn over, doll.”

A shiver ran through John as he did as instructed. Sherlock rarely took him like this, but when he did... John licked his lower lip, bracing his chest with a pillow and wrapping his hands around the metal rails of their headboard. When he head the cap of the oil pop, he closed his eyes. A low moan followed when he felt it drizzle over him.

“That’s it…” Sherlock’s voice had dropped, rough and even lower than normal as he teased John before starting to work him open.

John’s head dropped to the mattress with a soft sigh as Sherlock, with slow, careful movements, made sure John was ready for him. By the time he was finished, John was writhing under him, rutting against the air and begging Sherlock for _more_.

Warm fingers spread over the small of John’s back as Sherlock soothed him. “Easy, doll. I’ve got you. I’m going to take care of you, I promise. Not going to let you suffer.”

“Sherlock, please. _Please_.” John moaned as Sherlock withdrew his fingers and made sure his cock was adequately slick.

“That’s it, John, that’s it.” Sherlock murmured as he started to press in, groaning at the sight of John stretching around him, opening for him as he buried himself, inch by inch, inside.

John had his face buried in the pillow, near weeping with the feel of Sherlock filling him. This angle was _so good_. His knuckles blanched as he gripped the iron of their bed and begged between panting moans.

Sherlock paused when he was all the way in John and gave them both a moment before withdrawing almost all the way, hands gripping John’s hips with near enough force to leave marks before rocking back. The cry that he wrung from John’s lips was beautiful and John bit the bed sheet for a long moment before gasping for breath. And then he was begging…

He was not disappointed. Sherlock obliged him immediately. He braced himself against the headboard as Sherlock drove himself in over and over again without mercy, taking John with just the right amount of force, the perfect amount of pressure that they both needed.

The sounds Sherlock made above him were driving John crazy. He used the bed as leverage to meet Sherlock thrust for thrust, drawing a growl from Sherlock and a sharp smack to his upturned ass. John sucked in a breath and held it, unsure for a moment how he felt about it until Sherlock’s hand landed on his other cheek and the sting from the first blow was fading into a spreading warmth. 

John cried out, thrusting back against Sherlock harder, driven by the two stinging smacks. Sherlock wrapped his hand back around John’s hip, rocking into him with rough thrusts, grunting with the effort. Their small bedroom was soon filled with the sounds of their bodies smacking into one another and their ragged breathing.

Sherlock’s voice was a low growl as his hand slipped under John, stretching across his back. “Come for me, John…” He wrapped his hand around John’s cock, stroking fast as he continued fucking him.

The feel of Sherlock’s teeth sinking into his shoulder was what finally drove John into his orgasm. He cried Sherlock’s name, body shuddering and then going rigid, breathing stilling as his body threatened to shut down from the intensity of it. He’d never quite experienced anything like it. The electrical impulses fired through his body in a pattern they’d never achieved before.

The world came rushing back a moment later and he was gasping for breath. He felt Sherlock’s hips stutter as he tucked his face in John’s neck. A small, almost whimper escaped from Sherlock as he locked up and came hard.

A minute later the two of them collapsed in a sweaty, tangled mess on the bed, Sherlock, careful not to crush John in the process. Long minutes ticked by before either of them could speak.

“That was-” Sherlock started.

“New?” John supplied.

“Good though?” Sherlock asked as he trailed fingertips down John’s arm.

The purred words from John, his normally polite, eloquent, well-spoken, John made Sherlock shiver and give serious thought to round two when they’d had another few minutes of recovery.

“Fuckin’ phenomenal…”


End file.
